


With You, My Heart is Light

by thefrankydoyles



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrankydoyles/pseuds/thefrankydoyles
Summary: A Collection of Fridget Fluff Pieces





	1. Pet Names

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I wrote a couple of short fluff pieces (my coping mech for the s5 angst? ;), and decided I would post them in a new series so as to leave room for future updates. 
> 
> Speaking of s5 angst, let me just leave a blanket statement here to say what an AMAZING job so many authors are doing with tackling this season. Absolutely incredible, and I'm enjoying reading each and every one. 
> 
> Enjoy the fluff!

The first time Bridget called Franky something other than her own name, there was so much else going on in her head, Franky barely had time to let it register; didn't notice the missing beat in her pulse.

_ "You ready to get out of here, beautiful?" _

The second time it happened, her heart flipped in her chest and she felt a warm tingling sensation run up her spine.

_ “Cheers to you, my darling.” _

But they had just finished off an entire bottle of champagne, after all, and Franky hadn't had this much wine in her system at once in three years.

The third time, Franky didn't have an excuse; couldn't chalk up the warm, gushy feeling to anything other than Bridget's words.

_ “That looks great on you, baby.” _

And there it was again. That heart-flipping, tingling, beat-skipping sensation that Franky didn't know what to do with.

Before she knew it and before she could stop it, her lips turned up in what she was sure was the dopiest smile to ever spread across her face, and her eyes glistened, her emotions threatening to pour out.

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Bridget leapt up from her previously relaxed position on the couch, an arm loosely encircling Franky's waist in what seemed like less than a second.

"Hey, what is it?" Bridget asked softly.

Franky blinked the moisture out of her eyes and scrunched her nose, but she couldn't shake the dopey smile.

"I mean it, I love the jacket. Very you," Bridget smiled.

Franky shook her head. "Narr, it's not about the jacket."

She paused and bit her lip, wondering if she should say anything. It was so goddamn stupid.

But then Franky exhaled light raspberries and her voice came out in a low rush as she blushed and averted her gaze from Bridget's eyes.

"You called me baby."

Bridget raised her eyebrows and cocked her head, a slight, cautious smile forming across her features.

"Is that okay?"

_ Yes. Please don't fucking stop. No one has ever called me 'baby', or 'beautiful', or 'darling', not in the same way as you do, at least; A way that makes me feel safe, and cared for, and so goddamned special. Loved. _

She should have said that, wanted to say that. But instead, Franky leaned down and pressed their lips tightly together until she thought that her body was literally going to melt into Bridget's.

When their lips parted, Franky dropped her hands to just below Bridget's waist and smiled slightly, the previous moisture in her eyes replaced by a shining glint.

"Yeah. It's definitely okay." 


	2. Look at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for smut
> 
> If someone would have told Franky years ago that one day she would ask a woman to stop going down on her so that Franky could “look at her”, she would have laughed in their face.

_“Oh, fuck.”_

Franky threw her head back against the overstuffed pillow at the top of the bed, squeezing her eyes shut as she let out another moan. Just the sight of Bridget Westfall’s head between the apex of her thighs was enough to put her over the edge, but she wasn’t ready to tumble just yet.

Bridget swirled her tongue along Franky’s swollen inner folds, effectively drawing out another beat of wetness from Franky’s core.

Franky continued to pant above Bridget as she forced herself to open her clouded eyes again.

“Gidge, wait, come up here.” Franky barely even recognized the gravely, soft voice that vibrated through her shaking body.

Bridget immediately stopped her ministrations, humming in acknowledgment and placing a soft kiss against Franky’s inner thigh before lifting her head. She crawled up Franky’s soft, fully illuminated body until they were face to face, and Bridget circled her arms above Franky’s head as she laid her complete small frame atop Franky’s.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Bridget whispered against Franky’s cheek.

Franky shook her head slightly. “Just wanted to see you.”

She closed her eyes again in juxtaposition to her own statement, but Bridget simply nodded and placed another kiss on Franky’s parted lips. Bridget readjusted herself so that she could support her own body weight on the bed, directly to Franky’s left, and stretched her right leg across Franky’s waist, so that her own swollen, wet core was pressed tightly against Franky’s hip. She moved her right hand down to Franky’s center, pressing two fingers just at the tip of her opening.

“Oh, yes, Bridget,” Franky groaned, her eyes still closed.

“Look at me, beautiful.”

Franky complied as her green orbs fluttered open, and as they locked with Bridget’s hazy blue ones, Franky felt Bridget’s fingers stretch and enter her.

_“Oh my god.”_

As Bridget pumped her fingers slowly into Franky, Franky swore she had never felt so full. Every part of her being felt like it had an electric current attached; her core, her head, her heart.

Franky used to think it was all bullshit, when she would hear or read about others’ sexual experiences described as anything but purely physical.

But perhaps, it wasn’t complete bullshit after all.

Franky had more sex with Bridget in the past two weeks since her parole than she ever had in total during the last three years. And it wasn’t because Franky’s body was starved for sex; quite the opposite in fact. And it wasn’t because she was looking to escape any part of her current reality; fuck, she never wanted another reality more than she wanted this one.

If someone would have told Franky years ago that one day she would ask a woman to stop going down on her so that Franky could “look at her”, she would have laughed in their fucking face. It would have been the most ridiculous thing she ever heard.

But in this moment, looking into Bridget’s shining eyes as their bodies were so entangled that it was hard to know where one’s started and the other’s ended, Franky didn’t think it was so ridiculous. She knew that if given the chance, she would choose to stare into those crystal orbs for the rest of her fucking life.

Franky suddenly felt Bridget’s fingers curl against the top of her inner wall, and she moaned as she wrapped her arms tightly around Bridget’s neck. She felt some wetness seep out of her as she shifted her eyes back to Bridget’s, whose eyes were clouded with desire and three shades darker than usual.

Bridget placed a gentle kiss on Franky’s forehead, whispering, “let go, baby.”

As Bridget’s hand continued to pump inside of her and Franky felt the familiar tingling, tightening sensation begin deep in her core, she realized that all the feelings that she couldn’t quite put words to just yet, she saw reflected back at her, through those gorgeous, shining, blue eyes.

And that was more than enough to put her over the edge alone.

Franky screamed out as her vaginal walls contracted around Bridget’s fingers over and over again, and she couldn’t take it anymore and closed her eyes and buried her face into the crook of Bridget’s neck. Bridget’s fingers eventually stilled, and Franky groaned as she slowly slipped out and rested her wet hand lazily atop Franky’s swollen vagina.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Bridget whispered in a raspy, hoarse voice, before connecting her lips with Franky’s in a tender embrace.

Franky felt the emotion bubble up in the back of her throat, and when a tear slipped out without permission and cascaded down her cheek, for the first time in her life, she didn’t immediately move to swat it away.

Instead, Franky locked her vulnerable, wet eyes, with Bridget’s again. She smiled as she rubbed the pads of her thumbs along Bridget’s cheeks and inhaled a shaky, rapid breath.

“So are you.”


	3. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the water, Franky was safe.

_One, two._  
  
_Three, four_.   
  
Franky counted the gentle inhales and exhales from her chest as she sighed under the warm cascade of water.   
  
Franky's eyes were closed and her hands were looped above her head, her two pointer fingers linked together. She hardly noticed the tears silently slipping out of her eyes; she barely ever did anymore- not in the comfort of the shower steam at least.   
  
Decompressing in the shower had become habit for Franky, the only place throughout her life in which she could consistently shed her armored mask.   
  
She still vividly remembered the first time she cried in a shower; the small seven-year-old who just couldn't hold it in anymore, as her classmates' snickers and cruel words replayed over and over in her head while she desperately tried to scrub away the odor of stale booze and cigarettes.   
  
_"You smell really bad, no one's gonna play with you on the playground, you know."_  
  
And the little girl sobbed and scrubbed at her skin until it was red and raw. When her seven-year-old self finally exited the shower, she fully expected to be given the usual slap across the face for crying.

For being weak.

But it never came. And Franky quickly discovered that under the water, she was safe. She could cry and sob and hug herself tight, protected by the mask of the running water, that would wash her tears down the drain all the same. It was where she could escape to breathe and be vulnerable and unguarded, away from prying, judging eyes.   
  
She was always vulnerable with one eye open, of course, but even during her last three years in prison, the shower served as a sort of sanctuary away from the noise.   
  
So maybe she was just exhausted, or too lost in her thoughts, or too overwhelmed by the idea that she was actually safe beyond the walls of a shower for the first time in her life. Whatever the reason, she didn't hear the soft knock at the door, nor the gentle call of her name.   
  
The new presence in the bathroom only registered when the glass stall door swung open.   
  
Franky's breath caught in her throat and she jumped a mile high, nearly losing her balance and slipping on the wet tiles.   
  
"Jesus, fuck, Gidget!"   
  
Bridget's blue eyes went wide and she quickly shot her right arm out towards Franky, barely grabbing her elbow in time to steady her.   
  
Bridget stayed quiet as Franky regained her composure and retracted her arm from Bridget's hand, crossing her arms over her bare chest in the process.   
  
Franky suddenly felt more exposed than she ever had before. And it was so goddamn stupid, it wasn't like Bridget hadn't seen every fucking inch of her tattooed and scarred olive-toned skin by now.

But it wasn't her skin she was instinctively trying to cover.

"Shit, Franky, I'm sorry. I thought you heard me come in," Bridget said gently.   
  
Franky averted her eyes from Bridget's, and the black tear stains on her cheeks now felt sticky and glaring, and she moved to swipe at nearly bare eyelids.   
  
"No, don't," Bridget whispered. She extended her hand through the shower door frame. Her touch didn't quite reach Franky though, and Franky suddenly realized that Bridget wouldn't break through the rest of her invisible barrier without her explicit permission.   
  
She had been caught red-handed, her weakness completely exposed. But the world didn't end. And when Franky dared to steal a glance from those beautiful blue irises that she could spend hours getting lost in, she didn't see anything other than what she always saw- utter adoration.

"Do you want me to stay?" Bridget asked, her voice soft and open.   
  
Franky couldn't find her words that seemed to still be buried deep in her throat, so she simply nodded once and stepped to the side of the waterfall spray to make room for Bridget.   
  
Bridget entered the shower stall and moved towards Franky as she opened her arms, offering Franky a silent invitation to step into her embrace.   
  
Franky didn't think, and before she knew it she was wrapped up in Bridget's arms; her head buried into the crook of the curved shoulder that she had grown so acquainted with recently, and her soft, naked body pressed and settled completely against Bridget's.   
  
Bridget placed a soft kiss on Franky's shoulder as she stroked her thumb over the swell of her hip, right along the crescent-shaped scar of an old cigarette burn.   
  
They didn't speak, there was no need; Franky's emotions didn't need an explanation or a reason, Bridget made that very clear.   
  
Bridget only extracted herself from Franky when the water started to turn cold and Franky involuntarily shivered, goosebumps appearing on her damp skin.   
  
Only after they were both dry and cozy in two of Bridget's fresh sleep t-shirts did Bridget speak again.   
  
"So, I'm feeling Thai for dinner tonight, babe, what about you?"   
  
Franky nearly bubbled up with laughter.   
  
Bridget wanted to know if she wanted Thai for dinner! As if finding Franky sobbing in the shower for no real good reason was the most normal and okay thing in the world; just as normal as asking if she wanted take-out for dinner.   
  
Franky fucking loved it.   
  
"Yep," Franky smiled and pecked Bridget on the cheek. "Thai sounds great, Spunky."


End file.
